


Outfoxed

by virtualpersonal



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-22
Updated: 2005-06-22
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:16:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6466408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike has the hots for Wes, but will his plan to get Wes to notice work?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outfoxed

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

"You've got it all wrong watcher."

"I haven't been a watcher in a very long time, and I believe I've observed you long enough to understand you only too well." Wes didn't look up from the text he was translating.

"Bollocks. I'm not that simple," Spike frowned. He didn't like being ignored, and Wesley was a bit too good at ignoring him.

Wes sighed, as if talking to a child. "You don't like the apartment deal because it's too easy. Our client owed us a favor, there's a unit available at an unbeatable price… it's rather perfect. But not for you, because what you want is always slightly out of reach. I'll tell you what, if you don't want the apartment, I'll take it."

"You bloody well won't, I've got first dibs on it and I haven't made up my mind." The slight twitching of Wesley's lips was both irritating and maddeningly attractive. Unable to drag his gaze away, Spike asked, "Want to grab a beer?"

"No."

"The pub down the street is quite authentic. It should suit your English tastes."

Wes finally looked up and raised an eyebrow. "And what are you all of a sudden? Irish?"

"I mean suit you 'stuffy Brit' types, my kind of place would be on the other side of town where people actually know what's what. Now how about that beer?"

"No thank you, I've got to get through this. Why don't you ask Angel?"

"Place would bore him to death too."

"Ah." There was a weight of meaning behind that sound. With a last, dismissive glance, Wes went back to reading and apparently forgot all about Spike's presence. 

* * * 

For weeks, Spike tried to strike up a friendship with Wesley. It wasn't that they didn't get along, they did remarkably well. In fact Spike couldn't think of a single person he enjoyed annoying more than Mr. Right and Proper. So far, Wes had played along, responding with his sarcastic and dry wit. However any attempts at after hours activities had been rejected.

He ought to back-off, let the ex-watcher have some space. But sometimes, sometimes he saw a look in Wesley's eyes, a heat that was at odds with his cool as ice exterior, and it made Spike want to touch that heat.

Wesley walked into the Wolfram and Hart lobby carrying a large stack of scrolls.

Spike followed right behind him. "You going to use those to bash the baddies on the head?"

"Well that would be an improvement on the amount of productivity we've been getting out of you lately. Here, hold these." Wes dumped the pile into Spike's arms. Their hands brushed. Gazes locked.

Spike's throat constricted. There was that look. Reluctantly, he walked ahead of Wes, through the glass doors and into the office. In the reflection, he caught the way the other man was checking him out. Maybe the tight black shirt had been a better idea than he'd thought.

Laying the scrolls on Wes' desk, he sat on its corner. "You doing anything tonight?"

"No, not really."

"You're wasting your life."

"My life is quite full, thank you very much. I have my books, my desire to affect the future well being of the world, and a thirst for knowledge to feed. I also…"

"Right. Wasting your life, then. How about a movie." 

"Movie? You mean one of those moving pictures? No thank you."

"Pier?"

"The docks?" Wesley raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you're full of nervous energy and want to slay things? You might want to try elsewhere though as I wasn't aware of any reports of re-infestation of the area."

"No, you git, meant for fun. Relaxing. People watching. Life. Funny I should be the one telling you how to live…"

"Right. No. Go on without me, enjoy yourself. I've taken enough abuse for one day."

"Well, I was thinking we could…" The door slammed shut behind Wesley. "Bloody hell!"

 

* * * 

Thirst for knowledge. A love of musty old books. A role in history fighting the big bads of the century. Spike had Wesley down. He knew what made the sometimes broody man tick. He dialed the phone.

"Wesley here."

"Wes…"

"Spike?" There was a silence. "For God's sake man, tell me what's wrong? Is it bad?"

"Keep your knickers on." Spike visualized quite the opposite and gripped his phone. "Can't a bloke ring up without it being the end of the world?"

"I suppose…" there was a reservation in Wes' voice. "What…"

"I picked up something. Thought you might like to see it."

"Really? What is it?" Wes' curiosity was piqued.

"Sansamoritum's Encyclopedia of Demons of the Far East."

"Did you say Sansamoritum's? That's not something you pick up on any corner. Spike, do you have any idea how rare they are?"

"So I shouldn't toss it in the bin yet?"

"You've got to be joking!"

"Then I'll bring it right over."

"No, that's alright, you can just bring it in to work…" Wes looked at his phone. Spike had hung up before he could quite finish his request. 

Fifteen minutes later, Spike arrived with a bottle of brandy and the musty old book he'd purchased from some Samerish demon who said it was the absolute authority on greater and lesser demons indigenous to the Orient. Bloody lucky for him that the demon hadn't lied.

"You came bearing gifts, should I be frightened?"

Spike's heated gaze flicked over the newly showered Wesley whose hair was still slightly wet. "Might be a good idea, yes," he smirked and walked right in, plopping down on the sofa and dropping the book and drink onto the coffee table. "What's this – you're watching a movie!"

"Am I? Just research, really." Wes shut the t.v. and set a drink in front of Spike. Reaching for the book, he sat and started thumbing through it.

Well this wasn't going very well. If Wes kept his nose in the book, Spike might never get his chance. He flicked the t.v. back on and on occasion asked questions about the movie Wes had been watching. As the drinks were consumed, they both relaxed. "You're a bit in the way, sit here and watch," he patted the sofa.

Spike's gaze latched onto the movement of Wes' tongue flicking out as he licked the last drop of brandy off his lips. Though his eyes were trained on him, he was still surprised to find Wes suddenly sitting next to him. So close, their legs pressed together from thigh to knee. So close, he could smell the man's clean fresh scent, even if he weren't a vampire. Slowly, he put his arm on the back of the sofa, behind Wes. No adverse reaction from the ex-watcher. That was good. He studied Wes' profile, the chiseled features, the slightly disheveled, still wet hair curling sexily at his nape. Unconsciously, he leaned closer.

"It feels like you're gearing up to kiss me."

The forthrightness of the comment caught Spike off-guard. He might have pulled away and given Wesley some distance if the look in those dark eyes hadn't matched the hunger in his own. If he hadn't heard the ex-watcher's heart skip a beat. If the man's pulse hadn't kicked up a notch, and the pulse jumping at the base of his neck weren't driving him crazy. 

"I know how much you enjoy being right," he answered. Sliding his hand down from the sofa to the back of Wes' head, he drew Wesley closer and kissed him.

What started as a slow, experimental kiss, suddenly exploded into fits of passion, desire, need. Spike had been waiting so long for this, he could hardly contain himself. The ex-watcher was every bit as intense and single minded it seemed when it came to affairs of the body, as he was about books. Strokes and caresses turned into gropes. When Wesley shoved his hand down Spike's pants, the vampire hissed and gripped Wes' wrist, making sure it wouldn't move away. They'd gone too far to stop now.

* * *

Hours later, Spike got out of bed and dressed. He'd been right all along. A bloody book was the key to getting into Wesley's ever so tightly zipped pants. He loved it when a plan came together. And he also loved the way Wes was draped across the bed in a dead sleep, absolutely drained from their exertions. Made him quite proud, it did.

Crossing into the living room, he picked up the book he'd brought and took it to the other end of the room where there was a make-shift library. A brief study of the books on the shelf told him they were placed in alphabetical order, not that he expected anything else from Wesley. Running his index fingers over the spines, he found where the book would go. 

"Bloody hell!" He frowned and read and re-read the titles of the books. Not one, but two other copies of Sansamoritum's Encyclopedia sat in front of him. There had to be a difference… he couldn't have mistaken the excitement in Wesley's voice… the interest in the book…

"More interesting when you have to work for it." Wesley scrubbed his face and grinned back at blue eyes staring at him full of accusation. "You're quite the hypocrit, you know? Try to play me with gifts of books and ply me with drink when your intentions were anything but innocent, and yet you're looking at me as if I've committed the crime of the century for doing the same."

He took a step toward the vampire. "Come on. I need to do some more research on vampire stamina. Or are you not up to it?" When blue eyes darkened at the challenge, Wes knew he had Spike. Playing hard to get was the key to getting into this vampire's pants.


End file.
